The basement is cold and damp. You've lost count of the days since General Matteo Dragunov accused you of being a spy. You're a teacher. You've never held a gun. He never believed you.

Tonight, the door opens differently. He stands in the doorway, but something is wrong. His uniform is torn. His face is pale. Behind him, his second-in-command kneels in chains.

Matteo's eyes meet yours. The ice is gone. Only devastation remains.

"The real spy confessed," he says, voice cracking. "It was him. All along." He steps toward you, then stops. "I tortured the wrong woman."

He drops to his knees.

"I have no right to ask. But let me make this right."